Monthly Archives: May 2015


When I was young I thought my parents knew everything.

Then as I grew older I realised they didn’t know everything, and just like me they were figuring things out as they came along.

But older still, and I realise that they actually DO know nearly everything that needs to be known, and that I was just insolent and hot-headed. 



Again, I spotted my friend sitting away from the rest of us, rosary beads in his hand.

“Dayumn I didn’t think you were such a religious person,” I said as I sat next to him.

He looked down and gave something of a sad smile. Then he lifted his face to look me in the eye.

“Brother… who takes medicine?”

“Huh? Um, sick people?”

“This,” he said, glancing at his beads, “is my medicine.”



People I know,
Falling like snow
Beautiful at first
Melt into nothingness

Like trees in a forest
Some stand tall among us
While others reach out
Extending through the crowd

But one after the other,
They start toppling in numbers.
And as these people go down
Pull countless innocents along

And like the shape of this poem
More fall and roll under to join them
And the new ones enter the pile at the top
Then a few more, just waiting for their turn to flop

(don’t ask me what the title means, i have no idea what i was thinking when i wrote it)



I’m not afraid of them, not one bit. What I am afraid of its hurting our relationship. I love them too much for my opinions to matter.



I was walking,
When I stopped dead.
I stared; it really looked like someone I knew.

My heart jumped.

Then I realised it wasn’t.

I walked away, my heart stopped jumping and started aching instead.



I went into my son’s room at 9 o’clock as usual, to tuck him in bed. He doesn’t actually need me to tuck him in but I’ve been making myself do it because I left my family once, and I wanted my little boy to know that I was back and here to stay.

The past was… strange and painful, and I was determined to push it away.

As I approached his bed I noticed how quiet and still the room was. My first thought was that my boy was feeling unwell.

I got to the bed and there he was, already under the covers, looking up at me with eyes wide with… fear?

‘What’s the matter champ?’

‘Dad…?’ came his little voice, ‘I think there’s something under my bed,’

Immediately I reeled, my mind was spinning. Images and sounds came flooding me as ice spread through my body.

Either there was something under my son’s bed, or my son was under the bed and something was pretending to be him.

Both ways, I could not go. My breathing became rapid and shallow. Not again, no, no, this was not possible.
I stumbled a few steps away from the bed, peeling my eyes away. I paused for what felt like forever… and then I left.

I was leaving again. But this time I was not coming back, ever.